Rose Tinted
by PirateGirlRocks
Summary: Roxanne Miller get let in on a big secret -- can she save her new friends? Rated T for drug use and language. R/R appreciated.
1. It's Good to Have Connections

Roxanne slammed the paper onto Miss Hawthorne's desk. The teacher looked up from her seat, down at the orange document, then up again. The student nodded, encouraging her to see it closer. Leaning forward in her chair, Miss Hawthorne picked up he piece of paper and began silently reading it over. Roxanne scrunched her eyebrows together, making little creases in her forehead.

"_Please think it's bullshit_," she prayed in her mind, "_Please, oh please think it's bullshit. There's no reason why I should have to—_"

"This is utter… oh!" Miss Hawthorne exclaimed, interrupting Roxanne's train of thought. Roxanne smiled, grateful that at least one person in this world was on her side.

"I know, right?" the girl agreed, running her free hand through her auburn hair and leaning on Miss Hawthorne's desk with the other palm. "Mark started the fight, and I was only trying to protect Jess. Now they're blaming me for starting it in the first place!"

Miss Hawthorne nodded. "And there's no hard proof that you didn't. My, that is a sticky situation you've found yourself in. Such a harsh punishment, too, for nothing more than a stubbed toe."

"Yeah," Roxanne replied. "Two weeks of suspension is exactly how I wanted to start my holiday season. That means you don't have a stage manager for the Christmas show, neither, since they've barred me from all after-school activities for the rest of the semester."

Miss Hawthorne shook her head. "Oh, Roxie, what are we going to do now? When is your appeal?"

"Thursday." In an effort to make the discipline system more democratic, the new principal of Denton High School instigated an appeal system. A student needed a unanimous vote from three administrators to avoid the punishment, after explaining his or her case.

"That's tomorrow."

"I know." She sighed. "I've got to get to lunch now."

"Break a leg, Roxie. I'm rooting for you." The teacher tried sharing a small smile.

Roxanne returned it. "Thanks. See ya in a few." She left the classroom.

The moment the door clicked closed, Miss Hawthorne picked up her classroom telephone and dialed the principal's direct extension. She could not wait another moment. Ten days' suspension for stepping on someone's toe? This new principal definitely needed to work on his common sense.

"Mr. Hapschatt speaking," a deceivingly smooth voice picked up on the other end.

She rolled her eyes. "Hello, this is Sharon Hawthorne from the drama department, speaking on behalf of Miss Roxanne Miller."

"Oh," his voice lowered, "that punk?"

"Excuse me for being so bold, but I beg to differ," she continued, not faltering. "She is one of my brightest students. Concerning her recent write-up -- I'd like to propose an offer."

After a moment of dead silence, Mr. Hapschatt said, "Go on. You have my attention in your little proposition."

"Well, you see, my one good friend owns a… community theater a few towns over. Unfortunately, his light switchboard started malfunctioning the other day, and he has a show opening next Tuesday. With Roxanne's talent in the area, I am positive that she has the means of fixing it with ease."

She could almost hear the principal leaning back in his chair. "Good for her, but what does this have to do with me and the suspension slip?"

"I was thinking that if she did this as a community service type of act, it could help purge the stated consequence of her supposed wrongdoing."

"So in lieu of a two-week suspension, which includes Friday and Saturday detentions because she harmed another student, you're suggesting to ship her out of town to fool around with some wires as an errand for this friend of yours?"

"I assure you it's not as simple of a task as it seems, but yes."

He thought it over for the next several minutes. He talked to himself aloud while on the phone. The anxious teacher listened intently, adding in polite comments when needed. It seemed like decades before he answered, "Alright then, Miss Hawthorne, you've got yourself a deal."

"Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Ralph. Just make it worth my while."

"I will. Have a good day." Without putting the phone down, she hit the hang-up button and dialed an out-of-town number. Halfway into the third ring the person on the other end picked up.

"Hey Doc, it's me, Sharon… I'm doing fine. Listen, remember when I told you about my student?... Yes, well, I planned on asking her during my stagecraft class next period… I know. Don't worry, Doc, I have it all under control. I'm absolutely sure she will say yes… Why yes, she does, every Friday night down at Elm Street Cinema. She helps out with selling things at the door and such. But why would you need to know that?… What?... WHAT?! Well, alright… Of course I'll be there. You know me too well. Really? You're doing the Friday night at--… Yes, I agree … Well, unfortunately yes. The bell just rang… Okay. See you then, Doc."

She hung up and stretched her arms. "_Good thing she's seen it and still goes,_" she thought, watching her classroom fill up with the period 8 stagecraft students,"_or else I'd say she's _really _in for it_."


	2. The Invitation

Roxanne absentmindedly traced the star stencil on the poster board. Her mind was on tomorrow's appeal. What would she say? She knew Mr. Hapschatt liked her a lot less than Mr. Wright, the old principal. He had worked on the "Denton Affair", the case that inspired _Rocky Horror_ and made her hometown somewhat famous. Every summer and Halloween weekend that she could remember, visitors came and took the ridiculous DTV tour; stayed at the Home of Happiness Bed and Breakfast, which had signs on each of the bedroom doors which read "Frank-N-Furter might have slept here"; and visited the chapel and the castle, both a few miles away from the town. The castle was really an abandoned mansion that an old, retired scientist used to live in. He died before the movie was filmed, and the police closed the property after. She thought about how happy she was that the castle-mansion was not corrupted, unlike all of the other movie sites –

"– Roxanne, can you come to my desk for a moment, please?" Miss Hawthorne interrupted her thoughts. Getting up from her star, she walked over to her. "I have something to ask of you," she continued, handing her a gold card. "The host of this party is having some issues with his light board, and I was wondering if you would attend this party with me so you can take a look at it." Roxanne looked down at the invitation:

_You are cordially invited to An Evening of __Rocky Horror_

_Hosted by Yours Truly _

_This Friday, December 2nd at 11:30 pm_

_Meet at Elm Street Cinema_

_Reception to follow at my place _

_Thrills and Chills for All!_

It was written in a pretty cursive. A note, printed below, was much smaller: _You may bring one guest_. The card was prettied upwith black lace.

She nodded. "Sounds cool."

"And I'm sure you'll be at the theater this Friday, right?"

Chuckling, she replied, "Well, yeah. When am I not?" The dismissal bell rang, and the other students ran out, eager to get home. Times like these made her grateful for her beat-up black Mustang. It was old, but it got her where she needed to go. And unlike her fellow students who had to run to catch the bus, she could take her sweet time leaving.

"God," Miss Hawthorne sighed, staring at the wall next to them, "I haven't been to Rocky Horror since college."

"That couldn't have been too long ago."

"Well, it was the night of my college graduation. Five years ago. It's been hectic, trying to learn the process. Do they still dress up like the characters?"

"Some people do. I do, but I do my own thing. Like, I don't dress up like a specific character, but I'll wear my fishnets, y'know?"

The teacher nodded. "Okay. Oh, and by the way Roxie, you can throw away that suspension slip into the garbage on your way out."

Her face lit up. "But… how?"

"I told Principal Hapschatt about the problem my friend was having. He said that if you fixed it, he'd take that in replacement of the suspension and detentions. And since I talked to him, you don't have to appeal."

"Oh, thank you!" She gave her a quick hug, and then turned to leave the room. "One more thing before I go – who's hosting this party?"

She thought for a moment. "No stranger. Just a friend you haven't met."


	3. Whoever You Are

Roxanne glanced at the clock. It was 11:57 pm. She strummed her fingers on the counter. Looking down at them, she noticed her chipping black nail polish, and she made a mental note to reapply when she got home after tonight's mysterious party. Miss Hawthorne had kept it well under the rug, not sharing any details beyond wearing what one typically wears to Rocky Horror. She thought she had pieced tonight's outfit rather well: a red spaghetti-strap tank top underneath her thin black fishnet sweater, dark skinny jeans, and shiny black heels with a three-inch heel.

"Uhm, excuse me," a small voice piped. A boy looking about thirteen years of age stared at Roxanne. His eyes were wide with wonder and a hint of fear flashed. "How much are those bags?"

"Two bucks," she shrugged.

"What are they for?"

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "You really don't know what you're in for, do you?"

"S'pose not." He set down two singles on the counter. Grabbing a bag, he added, "Guess I'll find out for myself sooner or later."

"Have fun." She winked to him, put the rest of the bags back inside of a cardboard box, and headed to the meeting room to drop it off. The shadow cast, who referred to themselves as Got No Pretension, was busy getting ready inside. Snatching a bag for herself, she walked over to the theater, now filled with people. She spotted Miss Hawthorne standing and chatting to a man Roxanne didn't recognize as a regular attendee. Her teacher had dressed as a Transylvanian, complete with her own crazy party hat.

"Ah, Roxie!" she exclaimed as the teenager walked up. "I want you to meet my friend, Frank. He's hosting tonight's little get-together." Frank had also dressed for the occasion, clad in a red corset, fishnet stockings, and a feathery hairpiece in his thick, black curly locks. He had pulled off the floor show outfit better than any other moviegoer Roxanne had ever seen. She smiled.

"Nice to meet you, 'Frank'," she giggled, doing the quote fingers around his name. Drawing a breath, her giggles were silenced and asked, "So, seriously, what's your name?"

"Frank," the man answered. He could not have been over thirty-five, as she judged by his face.

"So you dressed up like him because you two have the same name?"

"Well…" He looked at Miss Hawthorne, then turned back to Roxanne and continued, "One might say that the two of us have a lot more in common than one would expect."

The lights flickered, signaling that the evening's entertainment would start soon. Miss Hawthorne tugged Frank's arm and said, "C'mon, Doc, it's time to grab our seats with the rest of the crew. Roxie, you're more than welcome to join if you'd like."

"With pleasure!" Roxanne exclaimed. The adults began walking over to one of the aisles. "Wait!" The two turned their heads back to her. "Did you just call him –"

"– Hurry! Before the lights turn off!" she rushed. Against Roxanne's hopes of getting her question answered, the projector shined a bright light onto the large screen. She sighed, faced with simply having to wait for later. "_For now,_" she decided, "_let's have a little fun._"

***

She couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun at Rocky Horror. Sure, she had fun every week, but the other party guests she sat with were equally as into it as she was. Roxanne followed Miss Hawthorne and the group when they left the theater. Only, instead of going to their cars she assumed were in the parking lot, the entire party went to the abandoned alleyway next to the theater building. Everyone crammed into a limo, engine running, hidden in the dark. It seemed like it was going to be tight seating, but everyone fit inside quite comfortably. The limo pulled away, entering the parking lot and speeding off into the night.

A few moments passed as everyone quietly chatted, then Frank whistled to grab the group's attention. The silence was like a shot, quick and easy. "Everyone, Trixie and I would like to introduce all of you to our new friend, Roxanne," he stated. The others politely waved and said their greetings.

But Roxanne sat straight up in her seat and stared right at Miss Hawthorne. "Trixie?! I thought you said your name was Sharon!"She looked around. Her eyebrows rose. Sixteen eyes stared back, some full of wonder while others full of concern. She had all of the pieces. None fell into place. Slowly, she asked, bewildered, "Just what exactly is going on now?"

Miss Hawthorne looked at Frank. Seeing him nod, she said in a low voice, "Roxie, what do you know of The Conspiracy?"

Roxanne's hand flew to her mouth. They were real, each and every face inside of the car. One solitary thought ran through her brain: "_It's _them."


	4. Welcome to Reality

***I don't own RHPS – that belongs to the ever-brilliant Richard O'Brien. I also don't own Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies, but their cover is also brilliant. Oh, and I also don't own… well, now, you'll have to read on or I'll spoil it!**

"Hold on! So, there really is a Transsexual, Transylvania?"

"Yes," the other passengers monotonously replied to Roxanne.

"Da-amn." The limo filled with laughter. "Does that mean The Conspiracy is true?"

"Bits and pieces of it, anyway," now-Trixie explained. "For instance, Riff over here didn't kill Frank, but they're both real live aliens."

Riff Raff joked, "As are we all. Though sometimes I do wish I had some days." Frank glared at him.

Trixie cleared her throat loudly, getting the two to stop. "Continuing on, a couple did visit the castle many years ago on the day it landed. They did reappear the next day very distorted. The two were proven mentally insane after going to authorities about it, though, so the police didn't do much about it."

It was Riff Raff's turn now. "We lucked out of that very well. We were sent here as diplomats of sorts. We were charged with the responsibility of spreading the Transylvanian lifestyle and values to other planets with intelligent life. Our research found Earth as the only other planet with that. So, we landed here, coincidentally in time with the Denton Affair, and we have been here ever since."

Absorbing all of the new information, Roxanne wondered aloud, "So you completed your mission."

"Pardon?" Frank questioned.

"You made the movie, right?"

A glittery gold jacket-clad redhead, who she knew could only be Columbia, piped up, "Well, no. I mean, we didn't make the movie. Frankie over here made a few deals with the big guys in charge of the movie, allowing them to use the castle and stuff. They swore to keep it all under the rug, so we've been safe for now."

The limo coasted to a stop. Everyone got out, Roxanne last. It was dark, but she could make out the front doorstep. When she stepped inside the castle, it was everything the movie showed and more. A gargoyle statue stood guard on a pedestal. The stairwell to the right spiraled up into the second floor. A set of double doors hid behind the elevator, which led to the main room. Even the clock, in all of its dusty glory, was right where it was expected to be.

Magenta approached her, tapping her shoulder. "The master has requested that you wait until the culmination of tonight's festivities to inspect the switchboard. Arrangements have been made for you in one of the guest bedrooms if the need arises, and you are more than welcome to place a telephone call as well."

She replied smartly, "I thought castles didn't have phones."

"You'd be surprised." Magenta smiled, and she returned to Riff Raff. Roxanne felt right at home, even without the huge amounts of hospitality ("_Horse brutality?" _she thought to herself, making her smile) shown to her. Yet, even with all of these familiar faces, only two were left unidentified. She went up to two young men. They were both dressed in the traditional black slacks, tailcoats, and shiny accents of the Transylvanians. Deep in conversation, it took them a moment to realize Roxanne walked up to them.

One, who was in a blue straw cowboy hat, smiled and said, "Hey, you're Roxanne, right? Hi, I'm Berne." He held out his hand, palm facing the ground.

She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't do elbow sex."

"Elbow sex?!" Berne cracked up. "Did you hear that, Lionel? The Transylvanian handshake is ELBOW SEX!" He lightly punched the other boy's arm.

"Quit it," he told Berne. Turning to Roxanne, he put his hand over his heart. "I apologize about my dear friend. Berne can be quite the crazy one sometimes." They looked down at Berne, who was curled up on the floor, guffawing to no end. Returning to the conversation at hand, he continued, "By the way, I'm Lionel."

"Hi Lionel, I'm Roxanne." He took her hand and shook it, Earthling-style. Bringing it closer to his face, he pecked it before letting go.

A gong sounded off, chopping the moment short. Magenta held the mallet in her hand. "_Stupid gong, ruining everything at the perfect moment,_" Roxanne thought to herself. "_Thanks, Magenta._" She saw Lionel rolling his eyes as well. She whispered to him, "Does that usually happen like that?" He simply nodded.

"Master, the main room is ready!" Magenta announced.

"Well then," Frank answered, "what are we waiting for? Everyone, please make your way to the main event!" He waved on everyone through the double doors. The multi-purpose room was particularly done up well for the party, complete with tables abundant with food and beverages, the jukebox blasting Me First and the Gimmie Gimmie's cover of "Science Fiction/Double Feature", and the center of the room all cleared away for hours of dancing.

While everyone else piled on in, Roxanne went to Magenta. "I need to place that phone call now, if you don't mind."

"Of course, sweetheart. Follow me." Magenta showed her the way to the Zen room, where an old-fashioned phone sat on a desk. Roxanne twisted the dial, calling what should have felt more like home than the castle did.

***

Frank watched his guests start to help themselves to the refreshments, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an envelope on top of a mantle. He swiped it and took a look at the front. It was addressed to him. He shook his head. Normally, Riff Raff would leave his mail in a more sensible place than haphazardly in sight of his beloved guests. He would have to speak to him about that later. He headed up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he kept his letter opener.

After carefully maneuvering the blade along the top crease, Frank pulled out the letter inside. He unfolded it and opened it up. The paper fluttered to the ground after he saw the letterhead:

_Mr. Ralph Hapschatt_

_Director of Confidential Foreign Affairs_

_The Federal Bureau of Investigation_


	5. Say Goodbye to the Past

***Note: Richard O'Brien's fabulousness belongs to himself. Sorry that this chapter is so short -- one of those things that can't go on forever. R/R makes my world go 'round!**

Frank knew he had to read the letter eventually. He scooped the paper off of the floor, holding it in his hand like it was on fire. Biting on the knuckles of his other hand, he bore through to the end.

_To Dr. Frank N. Furter:_

_It has been brought to my attention that you could be an extra-terrestrial being. As per U.S. Code 0867-53090210, you have forty-eight hours upon receiving this to remove your castle and its inhabitants from our planet._

_We also have been notified that you have an American citizen in your clutches. You must release Miss Roxanne Miller before you leave._

_If you fail to comply, all bodies involved will face 200 years maximum in prison, with no bail, and a $500,000 fine for illegal invasion of U.S. soil and holding a hostage._

_Your decision._

_Ralph Hapschatt_

_Shit. _Frank slammed th envelope and the letter on his dresser. He headed downstairs. _After the party,_ he thought, _I'll tell everyone. There's no need to ruin everyone's good time._

*

"Yo! Hello?"

Roxanne's grip tightened on the receiver. She eased into the chair by the desk where the phone was. "Hey. It's me."

"Uh, who's this?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's God – who do you think?"

"Oh, hi Rox. Need something?"

"No, I just wanted to tell you that I met a bunch of aliens and I'm staying over for the night."

Someone screamed in the background, and a base throbbed through the earpiece. "What? You're staying at Kate's?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied, smiling. Not once in her entire life did she have to lie to her father. She had been going to Rocky Horror for the past two years, and he never knew it. _Usually,_ she thought to herself, _he's too wasted or too involved in a party to fully understand anything._

He breathed in through his teeth. "Oh, okay. Just get me the goods before you come back."

Roxanne's body jumped out of the chair. "No! I won't do your dirty work anymore! I've told you that –"

"– Don't you tell me anything, missy! Shut the fuck up and do it or don't come home at all!"

"Fine. See you in hell." She slammed the phone down in its place. Her hand stayed attached to it. She looked down at it. Only then did she realize that her breath was heavy, and there were small beads of sweat on her forehead and on the back of her neck. Releasing the phone, she wiped them off. She concentrated on taking long, deep breaths, trying to slow the pace of her heart beat. That was it. She had done it. She would never have to go back to the place she once called home ever again.

Her head turned to the glass French double doors. Magenta's back faced her, her hair fanning out in every direction possible. Frank's face was pressed against a glass pane. His remorseful look fought its way to a smile. Roxanne's head hung low. She approached the two, Magenta closing the doors behind her.

"How much did you hear?" she asked Frank.

"None of it," he lied. In fact, it was her screaming "No!" that led his curiosity to the Zen room in the first place. "Well, come along you two. There's an entire party going on without us."

She nodded. The threesome went to join the crowd inside of the main room.


	6. Sex, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll

***Note: Sorry it's been so long… I was away, and this is the first opportunity I've had to type up a chapter. Hope this makes up XD This will probably be my last T-rated chapter, just to be safe. The content is more borderline, I think, so I'll raise it for the next chapter to be safe. Ritz owns. Oh, and smoking is very bad for you. I don't smoke and neither should y'all. Thanks ******

Roxanne stretched out her legs over the last step, resting her feet on the ground. The cold floor was welcoming after hours of eating and dancing and laughing. The room was completely trashed. Spilled punch and crumbs dotted the floor. A few streamers were torn and hanging by the select pieces of tape left attached to the railings walls. She turned her attention back to Lionel, who was trying to explain Transylvanian ways.

"Life is a celebration of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. We can't get addicted to them the way humans do," he continued to explain to Roxanne. "Over time, the Transylvanians from Transsexual developed a sort of immunity to nicotine and alcohol, like Dr. Frank N. Furter over there and me. Otherwise, if an ancestor of yours was from somewhere like Sodomy, you can still get drunk and feel the effects. Smoking is more of a teatime sort of thing, and sometimes other drugs are used, but they're usually too expensive for average Transylvanians.

"And sex is thought of as a time when two people who care about each other deeply give each other that special surge so treasured to us. That's the greatest gift one Trannie can give to another. It's like your version of a diamond ring, something not given just out of the blue."

"Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll?"

He nodded. "That's all, love. Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll."

"Where do I sign up?"

Lionel cracked up. By now, most of the party's attendees had retired to their rooms. Columbia claimed she needed her beauty sleep. Riff Raff and Magenta were exhausted after dragging a passed-out Berne to his room – he had a grandfather from Intercourse, and he helped himself to several servings from the punch bowl. Rocky had not even attended the party because he was not used to staying up past ten. Frank now stood in a corner with Trixie. The two talked in soft murmurs in concerned tones. When Roxanne was caught looking at them, trying to figure out if something was wrong, they stood and idly waved.

She shook her head and turned to Lionel. "What's up with them?" she whispered.

"For once, I'm not really sure," he replied, stretching and yawning. "You can ask them but I'm tired. I'm hitting the hay."

"No problem. Good night." They exchanged smiles, and Lionel got up and left the room. With not much else to do, Roxanne stood up after a moment and walked up to the two. They were so involved in conversation that they didn't know she was standing there. She eavesdropped on their chat.

"…Shit," Trixie exclaimed in harsh whisper. "I got nothin'. What are we supposed to do?"

Frank shook his head. "I'm not sure. All I know is that there's no way I'm letting that damned Earthling step on my --" His voice trailed off, noticing Roxanne's presence.

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

Frank's face instantly changed to an innocent, blank expression. "Why, no, dear," he stuttered. Regaining control, he casually added, "So, since it's so late, I think you'd rather catch some sleep than try fixing something now, but it's entirely up to you, darling."

Nodding, Roxanne agreed. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll be able to think straighter with some shut-eye."

"Well then," Frank piped up, clapping his hands together and folding them in front of him, "when you're ready, I'll show you to your room."

"Alrighty. I'm ready," she sighed. He gestured to the double doors. After turning to Trixie to say goodnight, she followed him out the doors and up the stairs.

He stopped at the third door down the hallway. "I want to apologize," he told Roxanne. "It's one of the smaller rooms. I hope it suits your needs."

She opened the door a little bit and peeked inside. Gasping, she turned to Frank. "Way beyond suiting," she replied.

"Very well," he smiled. "See you in the morning." He spun on his heel and left her alone in the hallway. She ducked inside the room. True, it was about as small as her room at home, but it was definitely better. Her eyes were drawn to the huge windows in the back of the room. Stepping up to them, she saw that they were actually doors that opened to a tiny balcony overlooking the woods nearby. _Exactly what I need,_ she thought. She opened the door and stepped out, glad that the rain had finally stopped. Hanging her purse over one of the posts, she hopped up onto the side railing, her legs dangling over either side. She unzipped her bag and grabbed her lighter and a cigarette. She leaned against the cool brick of the exterior wall and lit it up. She never actually smoked in her life. Instead, she opted to light them up, letting the toxic aroma tingle her chest without setting it on fire. She looked up into the black sky, wondering what kinds of ventures were in store for her.


	7. An Interesting Start to the Day

It took a minute or so for Roxanne's eyes to adjust to the bright light spilling into the room. She fell asleep rather quickly last night, though she didn't lie down on her bed until the sky slowly turned into a dark blue. There was too much to take in: being in the castle, finding out her teacher was an alien… and that phone call.

In an attempt to steer her thoughts away from those ninety seconds on the telephone, she turned over in the huge bed and looked at the clock. It was 11:30. _Not as late as I thought_, she wondered. She smiled. There was plenty to see and do in front of her.

Through the closed door of the bedroom, Columbia's voice rang out, "Breakfast!"

Who could ask for better timing?

Roxanne jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. She bolted down the stairs, jumped over the last two, and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor.

"Whoa, slow down there!" Trixie exclaimed. "Where'd all of this energy come from?"

She had to think for a moment. "I have no idea," Roxanne shrugged finally.

Trixie turned to what Roxanne guessed was the kitchen. "Hey Frank! Better give Roxie decaf!"

Frank's response, a loud and boisterous laugh, was like a song echoing through the hallway.

"C'mon, I'll show you where all the action is," Trixie resolved, grabbing Roxanne's hand. She dragged her to a swinging door and pushed her through it. Roxanne stumbled, but she quickly regained her balance and looked around. Some form of an electric stove was tucked away in the corner. Riff Raff stood in front of it, shoveling off what looked like a fried egg onto a big plate. Magenta stacked all the prepared dishes onto a metal cart. Columbia clanked dishes and silverware in the adjoining room, setting the table. The only part that seemed out of place was that there was not a pot or pan in sight. Aside from the liquid things like the coffee, everything was prepared right on top of the racks in the oven, on the stovetop, or on the counter. Frank, seeing the two enter the busy kitchen, strutted up to Roxanne. She had to cover her mouth from giggling too much at his "Kiss the Cook" apron and his hair speckled white from flour.

"Uhm, Roxanne, do you know by chance how to make…" His voice trailed off into his awkward chuckle. He looked down at his fingers and started to play with one of the apron's long strings.

"…pancakes?" Trixie finished for him. He nodded to her, both thankful and insulted.

"Yeah," Roxanne answered slowly.

Frank continued, looking up at her, "I know that you're a guest, but you see, I'm having a bit of difficulty achieving the right consistency. Do you mind…" he swallowed hard, "helping?"

Roxanne beamed. "How could I say no?! Of course I don't mind!" She followed him over to the counter. His finger pointed accusingly at a haphazard metal bowl full of the ingredients, partially mixed. Her hand dove into one of the larger lumps in the batter. Her eyebrows scrunched up when she discovered this lump was hard. She pulled out a whole, un-cracked egg, and her eyebrows sprang up.

"Well, that solves _that_ problem," she told herself, cracking the gooey shell on the bowl's rim. She found another whole egg and did the same. "Wanna try mixing it now, Frank?"

"Try! I don't try, I do!" Frank hollered, snatching a nearby wooden spoon. He poured every ounce of fury into mixing. The batter sloshed around in the bowl. A few seconds later, he stopped, looked at the mixture, and huffed in satisfaction.

She looked at the bowl. It seemed good enough to her. She nodded.

"Go in the dining room and get yourself settled," he told her, pouring the batter right on top of the ring on the stove where the heat went to. "I'll be out in a moment."

Roxanne went over to the dining room and found an empty seat in-between Columbia and Trixie. Lionel was seated across from her. They waved to each other. When everyone was settled, Riff Raff and Magenta rolled out the metal cart and set out plates stacked with fried eggs, toast, home fries, and Frank's pancakes. Bottles of syrup, jars of jam, and butter were also set on the table. Riff Raff poured hot coffee into everyone's teacup, while Magenta took a vase full of pink liquid and poured some of it into each of the glasses set next to the teacup. Roxanne wound up with an I Love New York coffee cup and a delicate-looking wine glass. After Magenta filled up her wine glass with the mysterious beverage, she picked it up and swirled around. The drink was thick.

Trixie leaned over to her and simply said, "Tingleberry juice."

"Tingleberry juice?"

"Yes, tingleberry juice. Just try it. You'll see what I mean." Something along the lines of a devilish smile crept onto her face. Roxanne sighed before she picked up her wine glass. Cautiously, she sipped a small amount of the juice and let it sit in her mouth, not sure what to make of it. It made a beeline for her throat when she felt her tongue start to quiver. Soon her entire body, from her mouth down to her toes, felt a strange, elating sensation. The euphoria faded away after a few seconds. Her hand pounced on the glass, picking it up and putting it to her lips once more.

"Don't down it all at once," Lionel warned before the wonderful juice touched her lips. "Last time I tried doing that, I went numb."

She lowered the glass. "One of those things to savor, I suppose?"

"Precisely." He winked at her.

"Now then," Frank's voice boomed, "shall we begin? The food is getting cold."

Everyone dug right into the feast set out before them. Roxanne had one remaining question for Frank, though. Turning her head to his, she asked, "No meatloaf again, right?"

The table grew silent. Frank seemed confused for a moment, and then his face brightened when he understood the joke. "Even better: Curry!" His retort turned the table into a madhouse. Everyone went hysterical with laughter. Once the amusement died down, Frank asked Roxanne, "So, Roxie, may we get started with the lighting after breakfast?"

She completely forgot about the reason why she was there in the first place until Frank reminded her. "Of course," she responded, startled. She looked down at the plate full of food in front of her. Something inside of her told her that she would need all of the energy she could get. _It's going to be a long day, isn't it?_


	8. I have to tell you just how I feel

*****_**Moulin Rouge**_** and Police fans unite! Enjoy :)**

Frank unhooked the padlock from its latch. The panel of the switchboard swung open with a _creak_, revealing an intricate web of wires of every color under the rainbow. Several dozen lights blinked and twinkled.

_Woah,_ Roxanne mouthed.

"Ready for the challenge?" he asked.

She sighed, "As ready as I'll ever be." She tried to keep everything he told her on their way to the stage in mind. Some of the lamps would flicker after pressing its button on the panel, then go out, then turn back on. He suspected a few loose wires were the problem, because he got Riff Raff to change every individual light bulb and the problem persisted. As she went through the tangled mess of wires, though, she found that some of them were worn from overuse, the protective plastic coating melted and fraying at the ends. They found an unopened box of new wires collecting dust in a storage area backstage and dragged it out earlier, so Roxanne already had everything she needed.

She changed one of the old wires and replaced it with a new one. A lamp overhead with a red tint shone strong without interruption. She heard Frank sing out "Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light…"

Roxanne smiled, but her grin quickly fell off her face. She grew quiet and crouched down, pretending to get another wire. Her elbows on her knees, she held up her head with her hands, waiting for the wave of emotion to pass over her.

Frank saw her expression and went closer to her side. Squatting down next to her, his head became level with hers and he asked softly, "Is something wrong, dear?"

Her mind flashed back ten years ago. "No," she said, both to answer Frank and to try banishing the dark memory. "It's just… one of those days."

She watched Frank look down, then back at her, his eyes wide. "Did I upset you?"

"No, it's not you." Roxanne got up, and Frank went to go sit on the edge of the stage, letting his legs dangle over the front edge. She looked down at him. "Can I ask you one thing?"

"…Sure," he replied, caught off guard.

"You know, you could have called any other person to come over here and fix this. Why pick some random kid you've never met?"

He thought for a moment on how to answer. "Do you remember last night when we were talking about The Conspiracy?"

"Yeah," she retorted nonchalantly, joining him and sitting down next to him on the stage's edge. "What about it?"

"Do you know a Ralph Hapschatt?" he inquired seriously.

"Well, he's the new principal at Denton High."

"He also works for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. See, he sent me a letter, and I received it yesterday –"

"—I knew it!" Roxanne interjected. "I knew something was up his ass! Not just 'cause he hates me… oh, I digress."

"No problem. In any event, this letter said I had forty-eight hours upon receiving the letter to leave the planet and get you out of the castle. He said I was holding you hostage."

"That's bullshit! I love being here! It's so much better than where my place. Or, rather, what _used_ to be my place."

"Exactly my…" his voice trailed off. _Used to live?_ "What do you mean by 'used to live'?"

Roxanne rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. "Well, I've sort of been homeless for the past twelve hours."

Frank jumped. "What happened? Did your house burn down?"

"No. I kicked myself out of it. That was why I was on the phone last night. I was telling my father I wasn't coming home. Things happened and… well I'm not going to talk about it 'cause that's in the past now."

The room grew silent. She could feel her eyes welding up, but she fought the urge to cry. Frank broke the silence after a long few seconds. "Well, as long as my fellow Transylvanians and I are here, I don't see why you can't stay with us. Besides, we can use the help with disguising and everything. And we'll take better care of you than any other Earthling can."

"And that's why I really don't mind being here, and why I want to help you guys out in any way possible. I promise you won't have to leave and not get attacked for it." She couldn't help herself; tears started trickling down her face.

Frank scooted to be closer to her. As she broke down, her head fell gently onto his chest. "You don't have to finish the switchboard today," he offered as a means of help. Wrapping his arms around her, he added, "And you're right, about leaving the past as it is. Those days are over."

She held on as tight as she could. That's when she realized that Frank wasn't going anywhere.

"_You don't have to sell your body to the night."_

***

"Have you received any updates?" Ralph barked whilst impatiently strumming his fingers on his desk.

"No sir. Shall we commence with preparations?"

The most crooked of smiled slithered onto Ralph's face. "Show no mercy. Surround the perimeter, but I want that girl alive and in my office by fifteen-hundred hours tomorrow. _Capisci_?"

"Yes sir."

"Excellent."


End file.
